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Xanthe stopped and questioned him. Semestre had told no lie. Phaon had not yet returned from a nocturnal excursion, and for several days had not reached home until just before sunrise. No, he was not the man to offer support to her sick father. He was looking for a wealthy heiress, and forgot his relatives for the sake of dissolute young men and worthless wenches.
"Mopsus has entered our service," replied Jason, laughing; "and, if our Phaon's bride will permit, he wants to wed the dark-haired Dorippe. Henceforth our property is yours." "And ours yours," replied Xanthe "Be good-natured, Semestre; I will marry no man but Phaon, and shall soon win my father over to our side, rely upon that."
"I brought the clothes myself," replied Mopsus, "and packed them in a beautiful chest inlaid with ivory, like those newlywedded youths receive with the bridal dowry. Praxilla, the handsome sister of Alciphron's wife, also gave " "Go and call Xanthe!" cried Semestre, interrupting the messenger.
When she did so the third time, the sleeper stirred, removed from his face the end of the cloak that had covered his head, slowly raised himself a little, and, without changing his recumbent posture, said simply and quietly, in an extremely musical voice: "Is that you; Xanthe?" The words were low, but sounded very joyous.
Only a few poor words were exchanged between them in that hour, but each one still echoed in her ears to-day, as if hours instead of years intervened between that time and now. "Mine was so good," Xanthe had sobbed; but he only nodded, and, after fifteen minutes had passed, said nothing but, "And mine too."
In spite of the long pause that separated the girl's words from the boy's, they were tenderly united, bound together by the thought, dwelling uninterruptedly in both childish hearts, "My mother was so good." It was again Xanthe who, after some time, had broken the silence by asking "Whom have I now?" Again it was long ere Phaon, for his only answer, could repeat softly: "Yes, whom?"
Semestre's praises of her cousin, the young Leonax, Xanthe had heard as little as the chirping of the crickets on the hearth, and before the house-keeper had finished speaking she rose, and, without bidding her good-night, turned her back and left the women's apartment.
To day and at this hour the morning sunlight fell serenely on the tall cypresses upon the hill, the trees in the garden swayed in the soft breath of the morning breeze, and Xanthe nodded to them, for she thought the beautiful Dryads living in the trees were greeting each other.
Xanthe felt and saw that her father was suffering, and exclaimed in a fearless, resolute tone: "Silence, Semestre! your scolding is hurting my father." These words increased the house-keeper's wrath instead of lessening it. In a half-furious, half-whining tone, she exclaimed: "So it comes to this! The child orders the old woman.
"There's one thing that I've remembered as a result of seeing Goat Hennessey," said Dark in a firmer voice. "This place isn't too far from a place in the Xanthe Desert where Goat conducted some significant experiments. If he left any of his records there and I'm thinking of some in particular they might go a long way toward solving the problem we've all be working on for so long.
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